Day Dream
by habitualnon-sleeper
Summary: AU: Happy Lowman doesn't look the type to be bussing tables at a sh***y diner. One Shot


Set: AU where Happy was never part of the Sons. Not set during any particular season.

Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Sons of Anarchy.

This is pretty much just a one shot of Happy admiring the Sons from afar. It's nothing special, but I hope it turned out as nice as I pictured it. It's not my best work for sure, but I had the idea and I thought it might be kind of fun to right. A lot of it's pretty out of character for Happy, and all that jazz. Anyway, some reviews would be sick as frick!

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><p><strong>11**

Happy Lowman doesn't look the type to be bussing tables at a shitty diner. Which, he truthfully isn't. The diner was the only job he could get after being laid off from his construction job that would still allow him to make his mom's doctor appointments. It, partnered with his job as the graveyard shift manager at a gas station and janitor at the school, was what was keep them in the house with only a large ammount of medical debt.

When he's not crunching the numbers in his head on what they need to get by that month, he watches the customers move in and out of the diner. There's mostly locals - people he went to school with meeting up, cubicle workers on their lunch breaks, high school kids who claim it as their hang out; and every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday a scrawny biker comes through. He's there enough to be called a regular, but he's never social enough the staff wonders where he is when he doesn't make it.

Sometimes, Happy wonders what it's like to live that kid's life. Sure, he and the kid are a lot different. Happy's tattooed and well built from years of manual labor. The kid is relatively muscular - he guesses - but still scrawny, and like Happy, he's got some tattoos (though the tribal on his head is most prominent). But unlike Happy, he wears a Sons kutte and walks with the swagger of someone who's free. It makes Happy think that he might have ended up in a kutte had he not had to sell his bike to keep up with the bills, or that he might be leading a life outside of constantly working and worrying had his mom not gotten sick.

Other times, Happy wishes he was a waiter or a till worker. Not for the better pay or anything, but because he wants to pick the kid's brain. He's a stoic man and not generally talkative, but he thinks the kid might have some good stories. Better then any movies he's seen recently, anyway. But instead of pursuing it, Happy clears the table three times a week of his half eaten plate of eggs and empty mug with at least a half cup of sugar left at the bottom.

Happy finds it boring sitting behind the counter at the gas station. Most of the time he did nothing while whatever kid was stuck with him stocked. None of his jobs required a genius, but this one was the least labor intensive. Hell, he'd sleep the entire shift if there wasn't security cameras making sure he did a good job of managing the other staff member.

In his free time, Happy let's his mind wander. It never goes too far away from speculating about the biker kid. Over the months he'd been watching the kid, he guesses he'd grown to have a fascination with him. Though he wasn't sure "fascination" was the right word. No, Happy liked to day dream that he was in the boy's shoes. Everything he can make up is probably riddled with errors on how the life really is, but as an outsider he couldn't help but find it glamorous.

From time to time he wishes the kid would come through his gas station. He knows it won't happen, but if he did Happy knew exactly what he'd say. It's something like an off handed comment about the kutte that would turn into a conversation. Happy prefers to be blunt most of the time, but he's scared he'd spook the boy if he was too blunt.

Sometimes, he thinks, you have to know when to be sly.

At the school, Happy doesn't have time to day dream. No, he's keeping the student workers in line while they do all the heavy lifting. He hated the summer for this reason. The kids were working for peanuts and they sure as hell did their jobs like people upset to be working for so cheap. He prefers to do all the cleaning alone, but now he has kids too stupid to get a real job shadowing him all day.

When he tries to busy himself day dreaming or doing math another kid asks him which button turns the vacuum on or which cleaning solution they were supposed to use to mop. even though if they'd listened fifteen minutes ago they would have known. This was his most stressfull job. He didn't know how the other janitor's handled it so easily. Sometimes he wishes he was the biker kid during this job.

While at the doctor's office, Happy clings to every word like his own life depends on it. He knows it won't save his mom's life, but he learns the medical jargain and follows what the doctor's orders are carefully. He's been there from "the cancer can be contained" to "she's got a year left."

And after every appointment he hears the same two things:

"I suggest you put her in Hospice care and get on with your life Mr. Lowman," says the doctor.

"You don't have to do this for me baby," his mom tells him as they go to the car.

Happy had thought those things over before, he knew he'd have to consider it at some point. He knew if he could get the house to sell he'd have enough money to pay the Hospice and some of her medical bills. Then he could quit two of his jobs and have a weekend off for the first time in five or better years. It would be the easiest route, but instead he stuck to his mom like glue. Most people called it sheer stupidity, but once he'd heard "loyality to a flaw."

When he's with his mom it's the only time life feels real. He spends most of his days in a half day dream half blur anymore. But his mom anchors him, tells him to get some sleep or to call in sick before he works himself to the grave. In Happy's life, she was the only thing that was kind of stable. And in a way, if she went, Happy worries he'd go too.

He isn't one for pulling all nighters, but he gets maybe two hours of sleep before he has to go back to work on doctor days. So he bears with it and waits for the beautiful hour between managing and bussing. There's on upside, though, it was Wednesday so the kid would be coming through.

Today, Happy notices, the kid has friends with him. Three other men all wearing the same kutte and stupid grin as they banter with each other. There's man with long blond hair, a big guy with a wild beard, and a guy with scars on either side of his mouth. Against his better judgement, Happy lets himself eavsedrop while he picks up the booths on either side of them.

"Glad yer comin' home today, Juicy-boy," the scarred man says, reaching over the table to punch the kid in the shoulder. "Missed havin' yeh around."

"I missed being around," the kid - Juice, Happy guesses now - says.

The blond man chuckles lightly. Happy misses the next part as he takes the dishes back to the kitchen. He strains to here them over the bustle when he comes back out. It was none of his business, but the fascination drove him a bit closer to listen.

"Did you get the money in the bank," the blond man says, inflecting what Happy could only assume meant they weren't actually putting money in the bank.

Juice nods. "I did."

Happy wishes he knew what they were talking about now. It sounded interesting and probably highly illegal. He wishes for a second he was wearing a kutte and jammed in on the bench next to the kid and the big guy.

He clears off another table and goes back into the kitchen.

When he was at the gas station Happy let's himself get a bit sad. The kid wouldn't be coming back now. It was an incredibly stupid thing for him to be sad about, but in a way he was going to miss the kid he never talked to.

"Can you empty the old food out of the deli?" the other guy asks nervously. Happy could never put a finger on why the kid was so scared of him, he'd never gave him any reason, but he always acted like Hap was about to explode.

"Yeah," Happy answers shortly.

The bell on the door dings and Happy peers through the glass of the deli. The biker kid, Juice, had walked through the door. Jesus Christ, Happy felt a bit like a school girl. He hadn't figured this would ever happen so all the words he planned were out the door. He slides the glass door shut and reaches the counter before his co-worker can.

"What can I get you?" he states.

"Can I get ten on pump two and a pack of Marlboro Reds?" the kid asks, staring up at the cigarrette collection above Happy's head.

"Hard pack or soft pack?"

"Hard."

Hap hands over the cigarettes and rings him up. "That it?"

"Uhh . . ." Juice looks about. "Yeah . . ." He pauses a beat. "Hey, don't you bus tables at the one diner?"

"Yeah, you're in there all the time, right?" Happy could practically feel his heart beating out of his chest. Embarrassing, this was definitely embarrassing. He couldn't believe himself now.

Juice nods and stays quiet for what seems like forever. "Wow, this is gonna sound super weird when I say it out loud. But, have you ever thought about prospecting for the Sons?"

Happy shakes his head.

"I mean - like - I can't say much about our um, organization, but you seem like a hard worker to get off work from there and do this all night. And we need some muscle -" the kids cuts himself off. "Let me start over," he says. "My name's Juice, and maybe we should talk about it some time or somethin'."


End file.
